Dancing with Doubt - The Rev. Brenda Sol
Those of you who’ve been here a while have probably noticed that, sometimes, I get so excited to share something I’ve been thinking about or exploring, that I end up skipping a few important details, as I enthusiastically explain my latest idea. So, rather than seeming well thought out, like it had been, the idea seems half-baked! Which often leads to a fair amount of doubt. Let me give you an example.
Several years ago, as I was preparing for the women’s spirituality group I facilitated each week, I found a quote I loved, and I couldn’t wait to tell them about it. I was so thrilled with this quote, that I even designed an experiential exercise to lead them through. After our regular check-in time, I basically blurted out the idea without much of an explanation: “We’re going to ‘take our skeletons out of our closets, and dance with them.[1]”
You might imagine what happened. As they nervously glanced around the circle, one woman voiced the group’s concern. “Brenda, did you ever think we might not want to take our skeletons out of the closet? And I, for one, certainly don’t want to dance with them!”
Once I backtracked a bit and filled in a few important details, the group began to understand I was trying to say, we shouldn’t let ourselves be limited or defined by our disappointments, our guilt, or our shame. What I meant to convey was that nothing should have the kind of hold on us that we think we have to keep it in a closet, hidden away from the world. I wanted to them to understand God forgives and accepts all of who we are. Instead, I essentially shocked them with my presentation. So, it took some work to move them from a place of doubt to a place of “Yes”.
When the angel Gabriel approached Mary—future mother of Jesus—she must have felt that same kind of shock. While the Canticle we read this morning is a lofty version of Mary saying “Yes” to bearing the Christ-child, the way the story’s told in the Gospel of Luke is that the angel essentially rushes up to Mary saying: “You’ve been chosen by God for a HUGE task. It’s going to be fantastic!”
Then, just as the women in my group did, Mary asks, “Are you kidding me? I’m not up to that kind of task! How would that even be possible?” And, as I did with the group, Gabriel back tracks, reassuring Mary that she needn’t be afraid. That this is about God, not about her. Then the angel adds: “For God can do all things.” Finally, Mary agrees, saying, “I am willing to be used by the Lord. Let it happen to me as you have said.”
There’s some of that doubt, mixed with surrender to God, going on for John the Baptist in today’s Gospel reading. In previous scenes, it’s John who has celebrated and proclaimed the arrival of Jesus. But here, we find John in prison, wondering whether the man he’s been hearing about is really the Messiah. We can imagine what he must be going through: feeling overjoyed and excited that the one, who has come to bring light into the world has finally arrived, yet, frustrated that it’s not going down at all with the victorious triumph John had in mind.
Which is when he sends out cohorts to ask Jesus, “Are you really the one we’ve been waiting for?” What transpires when John is willing to express his doubts—and this is the point I was trying to make with the ladies in my spirituality group—when John takes his “skeleton of doubt” out of the closet, he opens himself to radical transformation. In his case, the transformation is from being a prophet, who simply talks about a concept, to becoming a disciple, who is actively engaged in taking on what it means to be Christ-like.
Jesus replies to John that he can trust that Jesus is, indeed, “the one” because people all around the area are being redeemed to wholeness. The blind are receiving sight, the lame are able to walk, the lepers are cleansed, the deaf can hear, and the poor are being given good news. But Jesus is not just giving proof of who he is, he’s also claiming the breadth of his mission—that those who follow him will also commit to helping those on the margins—those without voice, and those without all that they need.
Even though we might not be consciously aware of it, I think that’s exactly the point at which our own doubt kicks in—just when we’re on the verge of transformation. Like Mary, we naturally ask: “Who? Me? I can’t possibly take on such an extraordinary task! How would that even be possible?” But we can’t let our doubt hold us back. We aren’t being asked to bear the child of God. We’re simply being asked to bear the light of Christ into someone else’s darker moments.
Maybe some of you read the letter we posted in a recent eBlast. One of our Saturday guests took the time to write out his gratitude, accompanied by wonderfully hand-drawn graphics. This person eloquently articulated the gift of things most of us take for granted, such as taking a warm shower in privacy vs. a chilly shower out in the open at the beach; starting at least one day of the week with a hot meal; being greeted by people who welcome everyone—not just their favorites, but everyone—with a smile; and having a place to let down one’s guard enough to enjoy the good company of new friends.
While I’m sure most volunteers (and believe me, it takes a LOT of volunteers every single Saturday) signed up to help at our Saturday programs because they wanted to be of service and they knew they could easily clean out a shower, or serve a meal, I’m betting most people didn’t imagine that they would be shining the light of Christ into the world. But in his letter, this thankful guest describes what it’s like to be seen by others through God’s eyes: to be heard with God’s ears, and to be loved with God’s heart.
Mary and the angel Gabriel’s story also reminds us that God doesn’t choose the most worthy person, or the people God thinks will do the best job. Rather God seems to choose people who need to be reminded that with God’s help, they are capable and necessary to God’s mission.
This is the ongoing paradox of the Christian journey—that we prepare ourselves for the Christ-child to come into our lives to redeem us, while also celebrating that Christ has already come into our lives, calling us to help redeem others. So, on this third Sunday of Advent, we make a conscious effort to acknowledge that alongside this quiet, and sometimes darker time of introspection and preparation, we must refuse to hide the skeleton of doubt in our closet. Instead, as we say “Yes” and bring it out to dance with God, our own bits of transformation shine the light of Christ into the everyday world around us.
-AMEN
[1] "If you can't get rid of the skeleton in your closet, you'd best teach it to dance." -George Bernard Shaw
